Page 11 of A River of Crows

Ridge and Noah spread the blanket while Sloan looked over the creek at the deepening blue sky. A few crows flew overhead. The first sign of a night roost.

Sloan looked at her brother. He smiled for the first time since arriving at the creek. “They’re coming,” he said.

Ridge’s excitement grew as the number of crows did. Sloan still couldn’t believe her mom hadn’t come. She lived for these night roosts. Something wasn’t right. Sloan shivered, and she wasn’t sure if it was the fault of her cold clothes, or something more.

By the time Noah handed out the Grape Squeezits and Fruit Wrinkles, even more crows had arrived. Thousands swarmed in from every direction, converging like it was some sort of summit. They flew over the creek in winding formations, mirroring the water’s graceful and wild movements. A river of crows.

The birds grew louder. Sloan couldn’t hear the flowing water or chirping crickets over the flapping wings and angry caws as the birds jostled for position in the surrounding trees. Sloan knew from her mom why crows roosted together at night—protection, warmth, better access to food—but why here? What had brought so many to this creek?

Sloan turned. Her brother’s mouth was wide open, but he’d stopped shoving fruit snacks into it. He stared into the sky, transfixed by the show.

The creek grew quieter as the birds settled. The branches bent under their weight. Ridge grabbed Sloan’s hand. His eyes were full of tears. Tears over birds? Man, he was strange.

“Thanks for bringing me here, Sloan,” he said. “I love you just like a crow loves his sister.”

“I love you too. Now stop being weird.” She shook her hand free.

Noah wiped grass off his pants leg. “We better get home.” He always worried about getting home on time. Sloan supposed that was natural with a father on the police force.

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” Ridge asked.

“No.” Sloan stood. “It’s almost dark.” She looked up at the trees dotted black with birds, feeling like an intruder in their home. “We’ll come back another time.”

“No, we won’t,” Ridge argued.

Sloan held up her pinkie. “Here, I’ll pinkie swear on it.”

“It’s fine.” Ridge jumped up and tugged at the blanket. He was careful when moving his bike from the tree it rested against, careful not to disturb the crows.

“Hey, look!” Noah pointed to the sky. “A shooting star.”

A second star flashed in Sloan’s peripheral. “And there’s another one!”

“Wow!” Ridge lowered his bike and walked to stand beside Sloan and Noah. “It’s a meteor shower. Mrs. Baker told my class about it. We have to stay.”

Neither Sloan nor Noah argued this time. They all sat back down for another half hour, watching the lights paint the sky, coming in from all directions, just like the crows.

“We should make a wish,” Sloan said. “Before it’s over.”

Ridge spoke first. “I wish for another night like this one.”

Sloan would have normally rolled her eyes at her brother’s sentimentality, but something about the night felt special, magical even. And of all the wishes in the world, Sloan couldn’t think of one better.

Chapter 5

Mallowater, TX, 2008

Sloan’s heart still raced after she unloaded groceries. She’d had to stop in Mallowater for them but didn’t even mind the stares or whispers. Anything was better than seeing Felicity.

Sloan turned on the television. Even PBS was better than the quiet. It surprised her when she flipped the channel and was met with more than just static. Noah, she realized. He’d not only turned the utilities on but also the cable. She needed to pay him back. Yet, she could never truly pay him back, could she? Noah and his parents had taken care of her mom all these years since Sloan escaped. Sloan only wrote the checks that allowed her mom to stay at the mental health residential facility and made the occasional phone call.

Sloan realized Noah thought her a coward for running away, but he didn’t understand what it had been like to live with Caroline Radel alone all those years. Sure, he’d tried to be there for Sloan during that time, but he couldn’t really understand—not when he had a normal family to go home to every night.

Sloan turned up the volume when a breaking news story flashed on the screen. Human remains found outside Jefferson. Sloan dropped the remote. As much as she said she wanted Ridge’s remains found, she also held her breath every time these stories made headlines, always praying it wasn’t him.

“The remains have been identified as Logan Pruitt,” the newscaster announced. “Pruitt disappeared from Longview in 1986 when he was eleven years old.”

Sloan vaguely remembered the name, a cautionary tale from her mom to always be aware of her surroundings, to distrust strangers. There were cruel rumors that Logan’s parents had ties to a Satanic cult.

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